


Altus, Not Son

by RavenCall70



Series: Tales from Skyhold [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Betrayal, Blood Magic, Brainwashing, Canon Gay Character, Drinking to Cope, Duty, Dysfunctional Family, Escape, Explicit Language, Gay Male Character, Homophobia, M/M, Re-Education
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-30
Updated: 2017-09-30
Packaged: 2019-01-07 02:48:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12224193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RavenCall70/pseuds/RavenCall70
Summary: Halward Pavus has had enough of Dorian's silver tongue and flippant disregard for tradition; OR, things said in anger can never be unsaid.





	Altus, Not Son

"You have a responsibility Dorian. You are a Pavus, an Altus of immense power and the last of our line. You have a duty to this family and all of Tevinter." Halward raged at his son, his face red with anger.

"I wasn't aware slavery extended to Magisters and their progeny." Dorian sneered, his voice cold.

"How dare you!" His father roared, his face motling further with growing outrage.

"How dare _I_? How dare _you_ father. I have done everything you have ever asked of me! I am the youngest accepted member of the finest mage college of Tevinter. I've exceeded my instructors in every class I've ever taken and surpassed every lesson I've ever been taught. Yet still it is not enough!"

"You are an arrogant shit Dorian. You have no regard for me or your betters. You flaunt your arrogance and knowledge as though you were donning a gaudy new cape. It is disgusting behaviour for a man of your status. You embarrass me and you betray your mother's memory."

"Do not bring my mother into this!" Dorian hissed. "Never pretend father. We both know you didn't love her, nor she you."

Halward sucked in a breath at Dorian's words before striking him with an open palm. "What you know of relationships would  fill a thimble Dorian."

"No more than you then." Dorian retorted, fighting back the tears which threatened to fall at the sting of his father's hand.

"Damn you Dorian! You will curb your tongue or I swear by the Maker I will have it removed!"

"The Magister's would have a field day with that one. How would you ever explain it? You've already lost support for your causes with your inability to control me. Resorting to disfigurement would lose you what little support you have left."

"Kaffas!" Halward swore. "You are impossible to talk to! I'm late for a meeting now thanks to you. I will return this afternoon. You had better be here when I get back. This discussion is not over."

"I await your return with bated breath." Dorian replied, his voice dripping with sarcasm as Halward stalked from the room. He waited until he heard the  carriage pull away from the  house before casting a silence spell on the room.

Stalking to a display case which housed all his father's hard-won achievements, he grabbed one and without pausing hurled it through the nearest window. As the window shattered and shards of glass fell to the floor, he felt his shoulders sag.

Why had he come back here? It was never pleasant nor did it ever serve any purpose. Always it was the same argument. His protestations falling on deaf ears while his father continued to insist on solidifying the Pavus legacy. He refused to be married to some appropriate woman whose bloodline would ensure a pure mage progeny. He was not  some stud born only to produce heirs and he was so very tired of it all.

If not for his secret indulgence of  smuggled stories from Ferelden and Orlais, he might never have known the difference between an arranged marriage and one born of love. Moments like this had made him wonder if his fascination with the fluffy stories he read were more a curse than a gift. He might even have been better off not knowing such a thing existed south of Tevinter's borders.

But he did know, and though he had yet to come across one featuring two men falling in love, he had wanted to experience it for himself ever since.

Not that he could tell his father that. Nor could he tell him he had never and would never desire a woman. But he grew weary of the arguments and the hateful words he and his father continued to exchange. Amidst the cold silences, accusing looks and the resentful sneers and snide insults he heard from others in the Magisterium, he could feel his resolve slipping.

It was only a matterof time before he conceded defeat and submitted to his father's wishes. Not because he didn't desire to fall in love, but because the likelihood of ever finding such a thing inside Tevinter's borders was more a fanciful dream than anything real.

He sighed, removing the silencing spell from the room before  heading to the study and a large brandy. To drown his sorrows or toast the death of his romantic dreams, he didn't know. Not that it mattered now. He was nearing his thirtieth birthday and all hope of escaping the confinement of his stature of birth had been dashed in the folly of his youth.

He gulped the brandy feeling the  sting of tears at the corner of his  eyes. He couldn't believe it had come to this. After all he'd worked for, after all he'd fought for, he was going to do as his father wanted. He couldn't remain in Minrathous otherwise and though it killed a part if him to do it, he had nowhere else to go.

He spent the next few hours mourning the death of his dreams of falling in love before passing out, having drunk several more glasses of fine brandy.

\----xxx----

He woke to a darkened room, lit only by candlelight and the faint murmur of voices. His head throbbed and he winced as he struggled to sit up, moaning slightly as the room tilted and  swam before his eyes. His movement drew the attention of whoever was in the room and the murmurs stopped abruptly.

"Dorian. You're awake." He heard his father say, his voice giving away his disappointment. "I had hoped you would sleep through this, but alas it is not to be."

"What's going on?" Dorian asked, wincing at the sound of his own voice. Damn the Maker, he shouldn't have drunk so much. His head felt like an overripe melon and his mind was filled with fog.

"I had hoped it would not come to this, but you have left me no choice. I tried reasoning with you, I tried threatening you, I even begged you to reconsider. But it was all for nothing. You are no son of mine."

"What are you talking about?" Dorian asked, trying to make his limbs respond so he could get to his feet. The way Halward was talking had set off an alarm inside his brandy-soaked thoughts and he knew he needed to focus.

"I know Dorian." Halward replied, his voice dripping with disappointment and disgust.

"You may need to spell it out for me father." Dorian retorted, finally managing to get his legs working.

"Men Dorian! I know you like men!"

For a moment he could only gape at his father, his face flushing as his mind tried to make sense of what was happening. "So is now the part where you tell me how disappointed and shocked you are? Trust me father, I am already well aware of your feelings for me."

"The time for that has long passed Dorian. I only hope I am successful and then perhaps we can start over as father and son." Turning away, Halward nodded to someone behind him who Dorian couldn't see.

When the first pull of blood magic hit him, he was so taken off-guard by what was happening he lost precious minutes before making a move to defend himself. His father was what? Using blood magic to... to change him? By the  time he recovered, his knees were about to give out, so strong was the pull of the magic cast on him.

He called to the fade spirits, those who were naturally drawn to his necromancy, to come to his aid. For a fleeting moment he felt panic when nothing happened, but a minute later sighed as the energy of the Fade entered the room signalling their arrival. Short gasps of surprise and terror  reached his ears as the horror he'd conjured filled the minds of his enemies, lessening the pull of magic on his body.

It was all he needed to gather his wits and throw up a barrier against the onslaught of magic focused on him. With the barrier erected, he cast Haste, making time slow while he trapped each man present with individual casts of Winter's Grasp, freezing them in place. It wasn't overly efficient, but it ensured he would have time to flee before they could recovered.

Casting his father a final glance he almost cast petrify on him, to end  him as surely as he'd intended to end his own son. But practicality overruled his sense of betrayal, knowing that after this, his father's standing in the Magisterium would be ruined.

With Haste still active he fled the room, pausing only to grab a few belongings. After a brief hesitation he pocketed the Pavus birthright before hurrying outside to the family carriage, which was always ready to go at a moment's notice.

As the driver flicked the reins and the coach lurched forward, he imagined he could hear the  confused and surprised shouts of his father and the men he'd left behind. He knew he didn't have long before his father came after him. As soon as the driver reached the square he disembarked and took off on foot,  making sure the servant watched where he went before slipping down an alley and out of sight.

He waited, hidden in the dark for the driver to leave before heading in the opposite direction of where the driver had last seen him. He kept his pace swift and quiet, keeping to the shadows as he headed for the gates of the city.

He didn't slow his pace or his breathing until he'd gone a mile outside of Qarinus. By then, the adrenaline which had spurred him to action was wearing off and he began to shake as the shock of what had happened caught up with him. Fearing he might be caught if he happened to faint, he left the road and headed for a thicket of trees to his right. He walked as far as he could until his body refused to move further, his legs giving out as he collapsed to the ground. Seconds later he was asleep as exhaustion and shock overcame him and he fell into blissful oblivion.

He woke to the discomfort of uneven ground against his backside and the unyielding rough bark of a tree pressing into his cheek. Confused, it was several minutes before memory returned and the horrors if last night's  events washed over him.

Tears pricked his eyes as he looked over what little he had with him and despair clawed at his heart. Heaving to his feet, he took his bearings and set out for Antiva. The irony of what his father had attempted wasn't lost in him. Yet he he took great comfort in learning that though he'd thought himself resigned to his fate, he'd still had enough fight left in him to defend himself.

As he walked, he pushed all thought of his father from his  mind and focused instead on where he might go. Place after place was rejected knowing that though he had a head start, his father would not let him get away so easily.

He couldn't stay in Antiva. Despite it not being part of the Imperium, it would be the first place his father would look. He needed a city where no one would ever think to look and though at first, the city which sprang to mind  seemed desperate, he knew it was where he had to go.

Feeling somewhat calmed by his  decision, he set a pace that wouldn't tire him while at the sane time would get him to Antiva within a day.

Though Kirkwall was his destination, it was a city still filled with Templars and still rebuilding from the Chantry explosion. But it was also the last place his father would look for him. From what he'd heard of the place, it was a haven for apostate mages and blood mages alike despite Templar assurances to the contrary.

Though he couldn't stay indefinitely, it was a place where he could take time to recover. Not only from from the shock of his father's betrayal, but from what in the Maker's name was he going to do now.

Setting his jaw, he increased his pace, anxious to put more distance behind him. As he walked, he couldn't shake the inexplicable sense that somehow he was walking toward his destiny.

 


End file.
